Prelude in the Underworld

Wailing souls teemed jealously around the new arrival, eager for the scent of life still clinging to her. Zyrdicia batted them away impatiently. She remembered now how much she hated the Underworld. Littered with human detritus, it reeked of defeat.

Death slammed the gate of His realm shut behind Zyrdicia purposefully. "You are mine!" the old skull-face gloated as He pulled her into a clumsy embrace.

Death's persona in this place disappointed Zyrdicia severely. When He appeared to claim a soul in the world of the living, He possessed a dark, titillating glamor, a shadowy attractiveness that made Him irresistible. Here, however, there was no trace of His familiar charisma. Once the surreal thrill of the journey from life to the Underworld ended, the reality of the afterlife was abysmal and disenchanting.

Death's embrace now was nothing like the soft, shadowy tug that He used to entice the dying to relinquish their hold on life. Since His recruitment of her was successful, He had no more need of such seductive illusion. In His true form, his arms were bony and awkward. His body stank of rotting flesh.

As Death moved to squeeze the coveted new aquisition against His torso in a grim mockery of affection, the sleeve of His black robe fell back to reveal a writhing mass of worms and maggots where the skin of His arm should have been. Zyrdicia jerked away in disgust. Thoroughly revolted, she pushed Him hard enough to cause the Lord of the Dead to stumble backward.

"Get your hands off me!"

"I've waited too long for you," Death smiled lecherously.

Zyrdicia could see Death's sickly face leer at her from within the shadow of his dark robe's hood. "You can't keep me here, you fucking pervert!"

"Your teasing is finally at an end. I think I shall make you my concubine for all eternity."

"Think again!" she sneered, "I would never have flirted with you if I had known what a disgusting wretch you were. It's no wonder you cloak yourself in illusion when you travel outside your Realm. You're easily the most repulsive immortal Creation spawned."

"I always win in the end, you know."

"Not this time. I beat you. Open the fucking gate!"

"Never!"

"I'll call Azriok!"

"Still running to him to protect you after all these years, Zyrdicia?" Death mocked.

"I'm not running to him. I'm using him. Either way, you lose," she answered defensively.

"He won't hear you."

"With his soul fused to mine, are you willing to risk your immortal existence on it?"

The black-robed figure crossed His arms and scowled at her. He had been cajoled, bribed and threatened with everything mortal minds could dream up - and no one had ever succeeded it convincing Him to permit a Return. There was no precedent for a creature like this. That made holding on to her even more important to Death.

She warned, "Azriok and Zyr would unite their forces for the sake of getting me out. Do you really want to tangle with both of them?"

"They would not dare!"

"Dare? Azriok would find it amusing to empty the Underworld and send every dead soul in the history of Creation back to torment the living. Zyr wouldn't give a fuck what became of you as long as I'm around for the Twilight. You are disposable in their scheme - I am not."

"You were born mortal!" Death reminded her, refusing to concede His first loss of a soul, ever.

"But I didn't die mortal!"

"You died nonetheless. Therefore you died mortal! I will never release you!" Death growled, reaching a bony hand toward her.

"AZRIOK!" Zyrdicia screamed angrily at the top of her lungs, propelling the cry outward with her fiber of her being. Death froze, His hand hanging in the air mid-gesture. A disconcerting silence followed.

The sound of a thousand clarion trumpets suddenly crashed though the stillness. Zyrdicia knew that sound - someone had opened Hell's Gate. "They're coming," she whispered smugly.

A black cloud of flying demons soon appeared, obscuring the colorless sky. Led by six dark-winged angels, the swirling mass spread out into two distinct lines, then descended. Two massive legions of demons alighted on the dark wall marking the boundary of Death's dominion. Innumerable Fosfors perched on one side of the Gate, Howlers on the other.

The angels commanding the invading mass of demons hovered in the air a moment, then lowered themselves gracefully to stand before Death, swords in hand, ready to make their demand. Zyrdicia stared at them in wonder, overwhelmed by equal parts delight and fear. Several additional legions of demons materialized above, careening majestically through the air, waiting. There were varieties of spirits among them she could not even identify. Their number was staggering.

Azazel and Usiel, both mighty lords of Hell, stepped forward as a pair to confront Death. The remaining four Sephiroth moved to Zyrdicia, surrounding her protectively.

Azazel warned Death, "You cannot claim her."

"You have no right to be here!" Death whispered indignantly. "She died! She's mine!"

"She did not die. She merely came to visit," Usiel replied with terrifying calm. "She has a Sephiroth soul. We want what is ours."

Death stared at the weapons in his adversaries' hands, then scanned the size of the force accompanying them. Such a confrontation could mean the end of the Underworld, the destruction of every soul entrusted to Him. Hell could absorb his realm easily. He had always prided Himself on His neutrality toward both Sephiroth and Seraphim. He was above their petty conflicts and maneuvers. He often peddled souls to the dark angels for the creation of undead and lesser demons, but He had never been in a position of subservience - until now.

He bowed His head, defeated. "Take her. I revoke all claim to her, forever."